


Release What Is Within

by WittyWallflower



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M, Fraternization, Matchmaking, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:28:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21906004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WittyWallflower/pseuds/WittyWallflower
Summary: Enterprise visits a strange new world that has its effect on the crew. Trip works on a new engine prototype while rumors abound on the ship about inappropriate fraternization between him and T'pol.
Relationships: T'Pol/Charles "Trip" Tucker III
Comments: 27
Kudos: 102





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (set during their time in the Expanse. sorta. maybe? They are there, and the attack on Earth did happen, but thanks to the magic of AU there is no ticking-clock Xindi mission, they are just kinda hot-rodding around the Expanse, doing their explorin' thing)

Captain Jonathan Archer sat in his quarters waiting, having summoned his first officer. He rubbed an agitated hand along his jaw. Better remember to shave before heading to the bridge. He could have waited to speak to T'pol in his ready room during her bridge shift but he wanted to get this converation over with before he lost his nerve.

When T'Pol arrived she was already in uniform, impeccably groomed and ready for the day. Archer wished he had taken the time to do the same. He offered her tea which refused, as she almost always did. Guess he couldn't make it well enough to measure up to even the mess hall. Unless she had already had breakfast.

He procrastinated bringing up his reason for asking her here; making small talk about routine ships business and sharing anecdotes from letters from home he knew she didn't care about. Finally he fell silent, trying to figure out how to approach the issue with the stoic woman who never acted the way he expected from the humans on the ship. If he was having this conversation with a human crew-member, it would be a lot easier. Still awkward as hell, but easier.

"I have to say, you are the last person i expected to be having a talk with about inappropriate fraternization," he finally said.

Her eyebrow lifted in query. He knew it was ridiculous to expect from a Vulcan and he should know better by now but he still kept looking for a physical reaction to shed some light on her suppressed emotions. A facial expression, a change in body language, something. Anything to give him a hint of what his mysterious first officer was thinking. He respected her culture, more than he ever thought he could before getting to know her, but he definitely preferred being able to read people. Was she confused? Angry? Defiant? Merely curious? There was a lot to be said for emotional expression.

"I was looking for Trip last night for clarification about his latest brilliant idea." Jon elaborated "He wasn't in his quarters, or Engineering, or the mess hall. No insomniac workout in the gym. I even stopped by Sickbay, since Trip seems to be in there at least once a week. Finally had to have the computer run a bio-scan to locate him. In your quarters. At 0230."

His expression was stony by intent. Starfleet didn't teach captains that look but they really should. It was very effective. Usually.

T'pol's expression was dispassionate by nature. She did not respond. A human would have felt the need to respond by now, defensive or apologetic. Naturally she did not feel such a need.

"It seemed a little late for a disciplinary meeting or i might have stopped by to have this conversation last night." He stood and paced the few steps his quarters allowed, hands clasped behind his back. He turned around again and faced her, his expression inviting explanation.

That damn eyebrow again. Her tone was as flat and measured as always.

"If you had, you would have found Commander Tucker unconscious on my meditation mat where he fell asleep during a neuropressure therapy session, while I reviewed routine ship status reports at my desk. "

"At 2 in the morning?" Archer asked.

"Vulcan sleep requirements-"

"That's not what i meant." He interrupted her, entirely unsurprised to learn the sub-commander was a night owl, or that Vulcans could go days without sleep if necessary. "Isn't that kind of late for physical therapy?"

"I prefer to schedule our neuropressure sessions for earlier in the evening so I may utilize the time after for meditation and recreational reading. Unfortunately, Mister Tucker continues to resist the recommendations of Doctor Phlox to reduce his workload. Working 12 hour shifts exacerbates the Commander's insomnia, making the pressure therapy even more essential for his health. So it must be scheduled for whenever Mister Tucker deigns to make himself available."

"At 2 in the morning?" Jon was starting to repeat himself.

"At that time the commander had been asleep for nearly an hour. In similar situations in the past I have woken him to return to his quarters. However, the doctor has been particularly concerned lately about Commander Tucker's disordered sleep, stressing the importance of him getting whatever rest he can manage."

"On your floor?"

She raised sculpted brow in that emotionless way. It was a reaction, he knew that much. She always raised that eyebrow in situations that might call for certain emotional responses: amusement, bemusement, annoyance, outright anger. And Archer wouldn't be able to guess which one until she spoke.

"I had wondered if the doctor was being overprotective to an emotional degree. The commander is not the only crew-member who works long shifts. But if the chief engineer is so essential as to be sought at 0230, its little wonder his duties are preventing healthy sleep patterns." Her words were spoken neutrally but her look was pointed.

Archer's ears pinked slightly at her censure, sheepish. He hadn't even thought twice about looking for Trip during the ship's dark hours. The captain was often up this late, making him a poor role model for good sleep choices. He and Trip had always been a lot alike, so Jon had just assumed the engineer would be awake and interested in talking warp theory at 2am. Jon had forgotten all about the chats Phlox had made sure to have with him about the difficulties in getting the wayward engineer to take care of himself. The captain had taken the doctors concerns seriously and promised to be extra attentive to Trip's health. Then promptly forgot to do so.

Archer shied away from the reminder that his best friend was running himself ragged to keep Jon's ship flying smoothly between the stars. And the captain himself was directly contributing to the problem and the workload Trip labored under. Not only did Trip keep the humanity's first Warp 5 engine humming so they could explore the galaxy, but he kept pulling miracle solutions out of his hat to save the ship from one catastrophe or another. And Archer expected no less from the genius engineer. It was a lot of pressure to put on one man, Jon realized with chagrin.

But dealing with that kind of guilt was going to have to wait until morning, after a few hours of sleep and a cup of coffee.

To deflect the guilt and her censure, he shifted the focus to her.

"So you just sat there doing busy work?" He asked. She answered with a nod "Why not take the time to meditate? Or get some sleep yourself?"

This time her lifted eyebrow was a lot easier to decipher.

"The commander's snoring is quite distracting," she said.


	2. Chapter 2

Archer dismissed T'pol after she clarified the situation. Well, he wouldn't have to have an awkward talk about fraternization with his friend, and that was a relief. But he still needed to say _something_. He wasn't sure what but if Jon could come to the wrong conclusions, so could any other member of the crew. Even if it was innocent, it looked decidedly unprofessional.

Archer didn't make it to Engineering until late that day. After he'd received reports on the bridge there was communiques from Starfleet HQ to deal with. The Admiral had contacted him personally with their next assignment. Sometimes they got to pick which way to go, sometimes Starfleet sent them hither and yonder where they pleased.

"What's next on the mystery space tour?" Jon smiled at the screen, glad a longstanding friendship with the Admiral allowed him the occasional irreverent moments.

"Have your first officer access the coordinates in the Vulcan database. System name is listed as "Orellia". Whether that's what the locals call it or a Vulcan designation we don't know for sure. Maybe you can find out about when you visit."

"What do we know about the Orellians?" Archer asked.

"Just the basics." The admiral tapped at his computer and Archer's own console beeped as it received the official Starfleet files. "They aren't quite humanoid, got a couple extra limbs. They are bipedal or not as the mood takes them, it seems. We've met a few of their emissaries through the Vulcans so its not a first contact situation, but you'll be there as an official representatives of Starfleet and Earth. Learn what you can about the planet, assess the Orellians as potential allies, and try not to piss anyone off out there. If the situation seems favorable, you can authorize limited shore leave."

"Understood, Admiral. Archer out."

There was only a few screens of data in the Starfleet file, mostly first hand accounts of the diplomats who had met the species on Vulcan. Jon comm'd T'pol to transfer the relevant files in the Vulcan database to his ready room. Hopefully they had some information interesting enough to be worth wrestling with the universal translator for the next few hours.

* * *

When the captain finally made it to Engineering, he entered the hatch to the sound of the warp core thrumming. He paused just inside, taking a moment to watch the action.

Chief Engineer Trip Tucker was directing his crew to their duties, explaining what he needed done. Trip trained his people well, no one need to be told _how_ to do anything, just what and where. Nobody asked pointless questions or second-guessed repair schedule priorities. Each team was dismissed with an encouraging grin or a slap on the back but the orders were given with brisk efficiency that Jon could imagine hearing from a command chair someday. Trip himself moved briskly and efficiently, swinging his body up to the main warp console half-deck with effortless grace.

Jon grinned, relieved to see his friend wasn't wearing the physical effects of all the stress at least. He climbed up to join Trip at the console.

"Report." He stated formally but his easy smile let Trip interpret it as the casual greeting it was meant to be.

"Everything's shiny, Cap'n, nothing to fret about," Trip said with a grin, waving a hand at his engine that was currently purring like a kitten.

The engineer bit his lip in a grimace at himself. He better not have just jinxed it! Things never ran smoothly for very long on Enterprise. But they had just finished replacing a burnt out relay and engine efficiency numbers were slowly climbing.

"Sounds great. Don't want to get a flat tire on the way to the next planet on our agenda."

"Where's that?" drawled the curious Southerner.

"Planet called Orellia. Or the system is. Not a lot of information. Our Vulcan friends have been there first but you know how they can be." Archer shrugged. The Vulcan database had a very detailed description of the composition of the planet and its vegetation and next to nothing about the people who lived there. But he wasn't really in the mood to get upset about the Vulcans keeping humankind ignorant whenever they could manage it. 

Trip shook his head in sympathetic annoyance. He knew too well how Jon felt about it. Knew that Henry Archer had missed out on seeing his life's greatest accomplishment because a couple pointy-eared bastards didn't want to share with humans. Archer changed the subject.

"When you have some time I want to talk about these theoretical engine specs of yours. It looks insane," Jon softened his words with a quirk of a smile, "but that's what they said about dad's design too at first. If it could get us to warp 6, its definitely worth getting a little crazy. "

Trip laughed and nodded, making adjustments to the controls even as he chatted with his friend.

"I can probably find an hour or three later," he joked, knowing how the two could be when they got started talking engines. "Gotta duck out by 1900 though, got an appointment with the sub-commander."

"That Vulcan physical therapy stuff?" Archer played ignorant, hoping it would lead Trip to tell him more about the neuropressure sessions.

Jon had done his research already, or tried to. He had been curious how "intimate" the process could actually be, given general Vulcan reticence and T'pol's at-times antagonistic relationship with Trip. There wasn't a lot out there that wasn't written in the Vulcan language, and he didn't really want to ask Hoshi's help with translating what the UT couldn't sort out for him. All Archer really knew for certain was that the sessions continued and that they seemed to be effective. But he had heard little else about them from his normally open friend. Jon had expected a play-by-play of the other species' unique rituals. As much as both men had had reason to dislike Vulcans in the past, they were both naturally curious about any alien culture.

To his disappointment this was not the moment Trip chose to open up about it. He just nodded confirmation with his usual friendly expression, then made for another display panel to continue his work, jumping down from the raised deck with an agility that surprised Archer who followed by more sedately climbing down the short ladder.

"I think she got sick of waitin' around for me to get off duty cuz now its a standin' order, 1900. Threatened to sicc the doc on me if I'm late," Tucker said.

Trip had always talked on the move while he worked. Jon knew when it was an invitation to join him and not a dismissal of the conversation when Trip walked away. Archer was used to keeping up with him as the commander did laps around engineering. Today Trip seemed to have abundant energy and stamina for it. Jon wondered at how spry and well-rested Trip was, knowing he'd spent at least part of the night on the floor.

"Well, you're looking good," Archer commented to his friend, trying again to prise a little more information out of him. "I take it the sessions are going well? You seem bright-eyed and bushy-tailed."

"I tell ya Jon, that Vulcan stuff beats shiatsu."

Trip unconsciously stretched his arms wide, reveling in the absence of the enormous knot in his shoulder that T'pol had pressed into submission. Shimmying into the tight fit behind a bulkhead to access a remote power grid had gone fine, but on trying to wriggle back out, Trip had twisted the wrong way and felt a tight spasm that had just refused to go away. It hindered his movement for days but now the muscles felt loose and supple. He'd let out a rather unmanly whimper of relief when the tight knot had given away beneath T'pol's magic fingers, but couldn't be bothered to be embarrassed about it, he felt amazing.

It wasn't even on one of the neuropressure nodes, but when she realized it was making it uncomfortable for him to hold the required postures, she had insisted on taking care of it.

Jon's jaw clenched slightly as he mentally pictured his two officers giving each other rather sensual massages. Knowing Trip the way he did, it was getting difficult to believe it was just innocent physical therapy. T'pol was a beautiful woman; it would be hard for any heterosexual man to not react to her in close proximity. He was trying to give them both the benefit of the doubt, but he was only human. There was a reason human ships were rife with gossip and rumor in a way no logical Vulcan ship could be.

"Thought it was supposed to be for insomnia?" Archer managed to bite back more pointed words. Trip in his sunny mood didn't notice the other man's tension.

"Oh god yeah, puts me out like a light sometimes. Actually managed a full 8 hours a few nights ago. I thought Doc was going to hug me, he was so happy." Trip's smile was easy and Archer noticed the younger man no longer had heavy bags under his eyes. When he grown used to seeing them on Trip's face?

Jon nodded, reminded again that his friend needed help, not just from the doctor but from T'Pol as well. His skin itched knowing his unhappiness with the situation was a sign of jealousy, inappropriate as a response for him as a captain and as a friend. He'd let his little crush T'Pol push the bounds of the unprofessional, knowing she wouldn't respond, even if she even understood. It was slightly masochistic but it was also safe, wanting the unattainable.

But resenting his chief engineer, his best friend, for getting along with T'pol after Archer had insisted they make a point of settling their differences was ridiculous. Jon found he couldn't hold on to any spiteful feelings that jealousy might tempt him towards. Whatever ridiculous fantasies he might have held, he really had nothing to say against whatever friendship (or possibly more?) the two had formed.

That they were good for each other was clear in every context. In their work T'Pol had come to respect the engineer's instincts with not just the engines but most of the ship's technology. " _There is no logic behind a "gut feeling_ "," she had said to him once, " _but we lose nothing by investigating Mister Tucker's claims. He is quite often correct._ " No small praise from the fastidious Vulcan. Trip's unique brand of genius, coming up with unexpected ways to solve problems, had come through for them so often that T'pol was forced to acknowledge the value of human ingenuity. These days she listened to the suggestions of _all_ crewman, not just the engineer, with due careful consideration... rather than immediately reject anything that didn't fit standard routine or official regulations.

Trip in turn had actually learned a bit of tact and restraint. He didn't always use it but the effect was noticeable. He and the Vulcan worked better together than Archer had ever hoped they would. The two had become the intellectual dream team of the ship, called on to solve every problem from the warp engines to the away missions. And they consistently kept saving everyone's asses.

And Jon had noticed the subtle changes in Trip's command skills. Everyone knew that Engineering was the most clannish department on board. A lot of departments preferred to socialize elsewhere in their off-hours. They spent plenty of time together while on shift. But at mealtimes in the mess there was always a table that was subconsciously designated "the Engineering table". Members of the department often sat near each other at movie nights and hit the gym together. Engineers formed tight bonds under Trip's leadership while soaking up the knowledge of the smartest man with a warp engine currently flying the stars.

On a more personal level Trip and T'pol both benefited. Not just in the sense of neuropressure treatments. Cajoled by Trip's friendly insistence, T'pol opened up, agreeing to new experiences she had never before considered, and forming the kind of social bonds that were unknown in Vulcan society. Instead of hiding in her quarters when off duty, she attended movie nights. And he had even seen her linger in the main mess hall after leaving his private dining room to make conversation with Hoshi and Travis. When human nature confused her, Trip was the one to explain it to her.

It was never logical because humans are nonsensical beings by nature, but somehow Trip found the right angle to make it at least... acceptable.

Whether it was just a mutually beneficial friendship or something more, there was too much good going on there. Jon loved his friend, he honestly liked T'pol, and he respected the hell out of both of them as officers. Being a grumpy bastard about it was not the path Archer chose to take. Whatever the future brought his two friends, they'd find an ally in him.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day Trip ran into T'pol as they were both on their way to dinner.

"The captain is unable to join us for the evening meal," T'pol informed him as they fell into step beside each other. "Shall we dine with the crew?"

T'pol knew the Captain's Mess was still available to his first and second officers in his absence. While she would appreciate the quiet, she had taken to heart the Commander's suggestion that she socialize with the crew. It was important for a first officer to be actively involved in crew morale, he had pointed out and she could not fault the logic of that. 'Chatting' with crew members in the mess did allow her to observe more of the off-duty habits of the humans. Trip was quite helpful in translating those habits into indications of how the crew was feeling about the mission at hand.

"Yeah, let's not." Trip said and suddenly drew to a halt in the corridor.

His tongue worked in his cheek for a moment as he thought about the gauntlet of eyes they'd have to run just to make their way to the Captain's Mess. He decided he wasn't so hungry after all. He made an excuse to T'Pol about sneaking in some project work under the nose of both Archer and Phlox before his neuropressure therapy, and abruptly left her standing there as he strode off.

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. It remained raised as she entered the mess, gathering a meal and taking a seat without conscious thought as she tried to identify the internal responses prompted by the commander's behavior. Sometimes identifying them helped in controlling them, but years of rigid suppression had left her without the vocabulary necessary to classify emotions. If nothing else, his sudden rejection of her expected company would generally be considered impolite. "Stood up" is the term she had heard Ensign Sato use once. She weighed whether or not discussing it with him was an appropriate response as she picked up her fork. And blinked at the meal before her.

Salad and plomeek broth were standard fare for her. She usually drank water with her meal but had instead selected her preferred brew of tea. An unusual choice but not all particularly surprising. No, the surprise was the slice of pie sitting in front of her. A comestible she did not desire, that she did not actually remember choosing. It was the subject of several intense glances while she ate, trying to puzzle out the nature of the situation she found herself in with a surplus of dessert and no dinner companion.

*****

Trip was yawning as he made to leave his quarters later, for once actually set to be early to a session with T'pol. She'd have an easy time of it tonight. He felt ready crawl under a blanket and surrender to oblivion for several hours, if he didn't just fall asleep the minute she touched him. The door chimed as he reached it and he keyed it open.

T'pol stood outside. She hadn't been expecting so prompt a response and blinked her mild surprise at his sudden appearance.

"Oh, hey T'pol," he greeted her. "I was just on my way to your quarters."

"That will be unnecessary. I have come to conduct tonight's therapy session in your quarters."

Trip shrugged gamely and turned around, leaving the doorway to give her room to enter. The door swished closed behind her while he shifted his chair out of the way to give them room on the floor. She remained standing like a soldier at parade rest just inside the door.

"So why the change in venue tonight?" He asked.

"Several times recently our neuropressure sessions have ended with you falling asleep. It is logical then to conduct them where you slumber."

Fair enough. The mat next to her meditation candle wasn't his first choice of bed, though he had slept like a baby. The candle was not absent now, T'pol had brought it with her. When she offered it to him, he knelt to place it on the floor and light it.

"Additionally, I prefer you to consume this in your quarters instead of mine," she said.

Trip stood again to find the Vulcan offering him a plate with a slice of pie. It was his turn for a startled blink. Had she had that behind her back the whole time?

"You... brought me pie." Trip said, and groaned internally at himself for his stupid choice of words.

She raised her eyebrow, like he knew she was gonna, because she always found the human tendency to state the obvious to be perplexing and unnecessary.

"Indeed. I have noticed that if you have not eaten within a certain number of hours before our neurotherapy sessions, you can become somewhat... intractable."

_A hungry, grumpy annoyance to her_ , his thoughts translated. Well, that answered the question as to why. He didn't ask how she knew he hadn't eaten earlier. The thought hadn't even occurred to Trip during his work and she knew him well enough to guess that. No wonder he felt so exhausted, he'd hadn't finished all of his breakfast, and he'd been runnin' on empty ever since. His stomach growled to confirm that; he took the plate from her before she could comment on it. Because of course she heard it with those pointy ears of hers.

Trip sat down at his desk, waving his fork to encourage her to make herself comfortable while he ate. She took a seat, primly upright, on the edge of his bunk. Before taking a heaping first bite, he asked how her day was, setting himself to listening politely while he chewed. Though he occasionally did it anyway to annoy T'pol (and sometimes Malcolm), Mama Tucker _did_ teach him not to talk with his mouth full.

"Unremarkable," she answered, matter of fact. "Most of my duties were low priority. Aside from the absence of both you and the captain at dinner, the day was quite routine. Though I did observe several intent glances from crew-members, intended to be covert. As I have obtained a new garment to replace the one torn on the last away mission, I attributed the scrutiny to that change, and the human obsession with outward appearance."

Trip swallowed the bite heavily and cleared his throat. He set his fork down and turned his attention to explaining to T'Pol that it wasn't her new catsuit that excited the crew's interest, though it sure did excite his.

"It's not your new outfit they are interested in. Though it looks real nice, by the way."

Stupid to compliment a Vulcan on their clothes. They didn't care about looks! But the mysteriously ambiguous purple-blue was a good color for her. There was a collar for her pips, with sharp points that emphasized the pert jut of her chin and those high cheekbones. And the uniform's tight fit... well, best not to think about _that_ right now.

"There's been some scuttlebutt...some gossip," he added for clarification at her blank look, "goin' around the ship. About you and I. That we're... fraternizing inappropriately is prob'ly what you'd call it."

This was not a surprise to her given her conversation with the Captain. Her face was passive while Trip related his conversation with other crew members. But then, when isn't her face passive?

** _Earlier that day_ ***

Apparently Trip had recently been seen sleepily stumbling down the corridor from her quarters in what apparently looked exactly like an early morning walk of shame. The whisper made its way around the mess hall at breakfast and given how cheery the commander had been for his shift, the crew was still humorously buzzing about it the next day.

Trip's friends tried to ignore the stares and curiosity from others as they all sat in the mess together. But they were doing a poor job of not staring at Trip as he ate themselves. Finally the commander asked just what the hell was going on with everybody. When they reported the rumors flying around the entire ship, he sighed in disgust and pushed his plate away from him to scowl at Hoshi and Travis.

The engineer was an open and honest guy, if he had lied or shied away from the subject they would have known something was up. But his denial rang true because as far as Trip was concerned, nothing was up. He got Vulcan physical therapy from his Vulcan fellow officer and that was it.

The fact that she was a stunningly gorgeous woman with some of the best brains he'd ever met and a dry wit that surprised him... well, that was just Trip's private cross to bear.

"Even if it was a true," he admonished them, "a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell. And I'd expect you two to respect her privacy about it."

"We'd never waste the sub-commanders time with that, sir. It's just a dumb rumor." Travis smiled easily.

Hoshi nodded in agreement. They weren't invested, it was just good material for poking fun at their friend.

"Yeah, really dumb. " Trip slide his plate back in front of him and took a bite, gesturing with his fork. "She's Vulcan."

"And?" Travis asked with a shrug, not smiling anymore. "Is it a species thing? You only like humans?"

Trip didn't like the insinuation that he objected to being linked with her because she was Vulcan. It had been established by now that he wasn't exactly shy around alien women but the idea anyone might think otherwise still goaded him. He hadn't be shy about voicing his opinions about Vulcans when the sub-commander first came aboard, but that was years ago now. He had let go of a lot of prejudices since then.

"What? No, i ain't racist! Its not about that. I'm talking about the fact that Vulcan just don't do that kinda thing."

"What kinda thing?" Travis asked. His expression was innocent curiosity, but he was definitely trying to steer this conversation into a trap to see what the Commander might admit to.

Trip was too smart for that though. He had siblings; he could see that tactic coming a mile away but he respected the young ensign for trying anyway.

"Whatever _thing_ the scuttlebutt says is happenin' that isn't neuropressure therapy or conversation between colleagues. Can you even imagine sub-commander T'pol 'fraternizing' with anyone? Like I said, she's Vulcan. It would be like a Klingon singing love songs."

Hoshi bit her tongue to hide a smile. When she was learning Klingon, most of the examples of that language she'd manage to get her hands on for translation practice had been epic love poems and romantic operas. Sometimes a species could surprise you.

"'Sides," Trip returned to his food again as he sensed the others backing off. "I'm hardly her favorite person on the ship. The gossip would be more believable if it was the captain, not me."

Hoshi wasn't sure about that one. Their attraction to the Vulcan officer was clear in both men's body language. T'pol was harder to read by far. But while her face was not expressive, her actions could be telling. Like the fact that she always sat near Commander Tucker during movie night, even if that placed her near the talkative Phlox. Or the fact that she put herself visibly outside of her comfort zone to indulge Commander Tucker in numerous activities (like the aforementioned movie nights) that Hoshi was sure the Vulcan considered frivolous.

People thought languages just meant foreign tongues. They forgot Hoshi was adept at picking up the subtle social cues of a dozen different Earth cultures and the body language of half a dozen species as well. While Trip saw antagonism from the stoic officer whenever she questioned his plan of action in a situation, Sato recognized when T'pol was just trying to further conversation on the topic. The sub-commander had come to respect his unorthodox thought processes and asked questions to learn more about what he was thinking. Thought is the basis for logic, after all. T'pol's blunt Vulcan expressions of interest just translated poorly to Human interactions, so she often came across as challenging his ideas or the facts supporting them.

Plus Hoshi _could_ read the Vulcan journals about neuropressure. She knew more than anyone else aboard exactly what was involved. She was a little suprised T'pol had agreed to such intimacies with a human at all, given how Vulcans can be. And it was really hard to imagine Commander Tucker, being the man he was, in those positions with a beautiful alien woman and not...

Hoshi sipped her tea and pointedly changed the direction of her thoughts.

*** _that evening_ ***

When Trip finished relating the conversation from earlier, he turned his attention back to the pie and finished it in a few large bites chewed in awkward silence. He eyed her uneasily as he set the plate to the side on his desk before taking up the first posture on the floor.

"Sorry if hearin' about that makes you uncomfortable. I didn't want the rumors to surprise you, is all. I can never be sure what human quirks will make sense to you and which ones wont."

He closed his eyes and breathed steadily as she knelt before him and began to apply firm but careful pressure to the uppermost nodes on his shoulders. Her fingertips pressed into his skin until they met firm muscle. She took the opportunity to study his face closely for a moment.

"I was made aware," she responded with her customary flatness. "It was advised that our sessions could appear inappropriate to junior crew members. That is why i insisted upon a regular schedule during reasonable hours." She didn't mention that it was the captain himself who's had a converstion about discretion with her.

Trip nodded, eyes still closed, and took the deep measured breaths she had taught him that were essential to the therapy. T'pol didn't want him seen sneaking out of her quarters in the middle of the night. That was fair. He couldn't really understand why anyone would believe it wasn't innocent but he wasn't going to play fast and loose with her reputation regardless. If a human gal had said she didn't want to him to be seen outside her quarters late at night he would have respected that too, even if he _was_ 'fraternizing' with her.

"Plus, these earlier appointments get me out of engineering before midnight." He quipped.

"Indeed," she said simply.

It was weird how sometimes he thought he could sense her amusement. She didn't laugh or smile like a human did. It was a rare feat if he even managed to provoke an amused tilt of her eyebrow, so he didn't open his eyes to study her expression for evidence of mirth. But he could swear sometimes he _felt_ her humor. It had to be hers. It was so different from his own easily-aroused sense of laughter and fun that he knew it wasn't a part of him. It could only come from her.

Or was it his own wishful thinking, making him hope they were growing closer than might be ever actually be possible? He loved to make people laugh. Getting a Vulcan to chuckle would be the ultimate accomplishment. But if it wasn't in her nature, did he want to push her into it? Probably he was just projecting his own emotions onto her because human feelings were easier for him to understand and relate to than Vulcan stoicism.

"Anyway." He cleared his throat and steadied his breathing again. "I tried to set the crew straight, but i can tell ya from experience that when rumor is more interestin' than reality, it takes a while to die. So..., sorry."

T'pol's fingers stilled. She didn't speak to ask but in that uncanny way he sometimes displayed, Trip understood her confusion at his apology.

"For your reputation, i mean to say," he elaborated. "Havin' the crew talk about you behind your back, that's gotta bother your Vulcan sense of privacy."

Her fingers resumed their pressure and she acknowledged on the inside that he was right that she did not enjoy being the subject of speculation. Also that he understood certain aspects of Vulcan culture better than he realized. Vulcans simply did not discuss certain things, even with other Vulcans. Trip was curious about her but had always tempered his more invasive questions.

"And sorry that ya got linked with me, of all people," he continued. "The ship man-whore."

In high school he mighta loved the idea of being thought of as a stud. Proud of 'gettin' around', as they used to call it. But Mama Tucker had actually managed to raise a gentleman in the end, and as a grown man it galled him that just a few encounters had been enough to cement his reputation as a man who would make a pass at anything. Some of the aliens he'd met he'd truly cared about, they weren't just casual curiosities for him. Some of those encounters had ended badly and left their scars. Some he still grieved for, reminded of the pain with every bawdy joke his friends made about him being a 'ladies man'.

"It is irrelevant what the crew may believe, assuming it does not affect their ability to follow orders or impair their efficiency," T'Pol stated without interrupting her touch as it moved through each neural node.

She was right, he knew. You had to ignore the gossips or you'd go crazy.

"Of all the males on the ship, I assure you, you are the least irksome to be accused of inappropriate associations with."

If she had a more developed sense of disgust, she might perhaps shudder at the thought of being suspected of having intercourse with Phlox, for example. She respected the doctor, and had found in him something of a confidant. Being the only other alien aboard, they had more in common with each other than either of them did with the rest of the crew. But Denobulan polygamy ran so counter to Vulcan monogamy the idea of a sexual encounter with one was repellent. A 'turn off' her human colleagues might call it.

Trip eye's popped open in surprise and he had to fight down a smile. Her face was impassive as it always (usually) was as she continued to the last pressure point of this position. But Trip thought he saw her looking a little green around the ears.

"Is that right?" he drawled.

Were she human, T'pol would have rolled her eyes at the grin she could hear in his world despite his neutral expression.

"I may find some of your human qualities illogical and at times distracting, Mister Tucker..."

Now he was dying to know _exactly_ what about him she found so distracting.

"But I do acknowledge that you are a skilled engineer and exemplary officer. While I at first questioned the Captain consulting your judgment in contexts where consulting his First Officer was more appropriate, I have come to appreciate your unique viewpoint and its value to ship operations. It also has not escaped my notice that you are well-liked among the crew, which suggest a friendly and generous nature that cannot help but appeal to others. While I respect all of my colleagues aboard Enterprise, there are very few others I would not find it offensive to be romantically linked to in rumor."

Trip was grateful it was time to move on to the next posture which did not put them face-to-face. He could feel the burn of a blush he knew she would notice otherwise. T'pol didn't compliment people lightly. That little speech was, for her, practically gushing. Instead of feeling smug about it, he felt humbled by her good opinion of him. Instead of preening under the praise, he hoped he could continue to live up to it.

Her hands on his lower back, magic fingers releasing what felt like years worth of tension, made him feel a rush of warmth and just a bit too much pleasure. He groaned, both in physical relief and in internal censure. He didn't feel like the good man she just said he was when his body betrayed him like this. Reacting carnally when she was providing platonic, nonsexual, medicinal therapy.

Trip had tried to apologize for such physical responses during their first few sessions. T'Pol had steadily brushed them off, explaining in clinical detail the human anatomical processes that led him to respond to certain touches in embarrassing ways. Apologizing for it was embarrassing too but the sex ed lectures were worse so he stopped mentioning it. Which she no doubt preferred. Eventually the breathing techniques she taught him helped him to control most wayward physical responses.

But at the moment he wasn't actually sure if it was her warm fingers dancing over his spine, or her words of warm regard that got him fired up. One was a physical reaction he had experience dealing with dating back to puberty, but the other arousal was an emotional response. And he didn't have a Vulcan's training in suppressing emotional responses.


	4. Chapter 4

Jonathan Archer manfully suppressed a yawn as he hit the door release and padded barefoot into Sickbay. The resulting grimace wasn't much more dignified than the yawn would have been, but luckily there was no one to witness it as he entered. Though it was a couple hours before Porthos' usual morning walk, the beagle scampered to take advantage of it nonetheless. In a discreet corner of Phlox's menagerie was a tray of artificial turf where the dog was able to relieve himself without leaving puddles and unpleasant surprises on the deck. An attached processing unit turned the canine's droppings into food for one or two of Phlox's weirder creatures, and fertilizer for the plants in their terrariums.

Archer leaned against a bio-bed to give his doggy friend a chance to do his business. This time he gave in to the yawn, mouth stretched wide and eyes screwed shut tight as he debated going back to bed even though he was unlikely to get anymore sleep. Jon opened his eyes in time to catch Phlox emerging from the one of the connected labs with a tray of dishes. Morning feeding time at the Sickbay zoo.

The Denoublan gave the captain his inhumanly large smile in greeting, but didn't speak as he tended to the rustling, squeaking critters. He fed each animal quickly and efficiently, not stopping to coo over the cages. Which was out of character for the doctor and Jon found him watching the other man as he moved around. Finishing up, Phlox turned to leave and finally spoke as he passed Archer again.

"Have a good morning, captain." Very succinct for the normally chatty alien. 

Phlox paused for a step. Jon noticed the hesitation.

"Something to say, Doctor?" he asked genially.

Phlox slowly turned, his expression thoughtful as he considered his words.

"Actually, its something I've already said, Captain. I know I have brought the matter to your attention a few times now, and I don't wish to... beat a dead equine, as they say on Earth." Jon's lips twitched slightly in amusement. The doctor went on, "But I am still very concerned about Commander Tucker. He is the most resistant patient on board this ship. Its not as if I am asking him to come in for daily bloodworm treatments or anything equally unpleasant, all I prescribe him is rest. I don't understand why the man refuses get an acceptable amount of sleep."

It was rare for Phlox to openly express frustration and annoyance with his patients. The alien man was irrepressibly friendly, and a consummate professional. The fact that he was starting to lose his cool with Trip made Archer frown, his gut twisting in renewed concern for his friend.

"I thought he was clocking out on time for his neuropressure appointments these days?" he asked.

"At the moment its not when the Commander _ends_ his shift but when he _begin_ s it that is the problem. By the time he has breakfast with you, he has usually put in three or four hours of work already."

The captain shook his head, now understanding and sharing the doctor's frustrations.

"Leave it to Trip to find a way around any limits we try to put on him." It was starting to look like they would have to strap him to a bio-bed for 7 hours a day.

The doctor hummed in agreement.

"To be honest captain, I find myself at a loss to help the Commander more than I have. There is no physical illness or injury left for me to treat. With the absence of any sort of mental health professional aboard, the crew's emotional well-being has fallen to me as well. If Mister Tucker doesn't follow my orders as a medical professional, I have little reason to believe he would follow my suggestions as a therapist."

Despite being a doctor who healed bodies, Phlox had a healthy respect for his colleagues in psychological fields who healed minds. He preferred to work with physical ailments but he did have a degree is psychology among his other specialties. It didn't actually bother him that he had become to de-facto shrink on board Enterprise. In fact, he rather enjoyed it. It fostered closer bonds between the alien and his human shipmates, which not only made him a more comforting presence to them when they fell sick or got injured, but also helped him form friendships. As well as keep apprised of ship's gossip.

But he wasn't above letting the Captain believe he found the duty onerous. It really was irresponsible to fly without a well-rounded medical crew.

Archer sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Just what the hell were they supposed to do about this with Trip fighting them at every turn?

"Given that its not an issue with his physical safety or even general crew morale, I'm not even certain its my jurisdiction to make suggestions..." Phlox continued, vaguely. Knowing that Jonathan Archer, when he knew of an issue with his crew, would take the lead.

"I won't ask you to violate doctor/patient confidentiality, Doctor, but if there's something that can be done..."

"Oh, no, no violation of privacy. Its strictly a theory on my part. I'm not sure I should approach the other senior officer involved about it."

The mention of another member of his bridge staff got Archer's attention and he smiled knowingly.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with the rumor mill in the mess hall, would it?" he asked.

Phlox had actually expected him to be completely unaware. Captains were often the last to know the details of ship's scuttlebutt. Captain Archer in particular was at times withdrawn from the crew, hyper-focused on his mission to the exclusion of all else. Even his friends. Which had led to one friend in particular spending quite a lot of time with another friend. A situation Phlox was most eager to encourage.

Knowing how contrary humans could be about romance and sexuality and morality and regulations, he had decided not to do so openly. Finding excuses to encourage the first and second officers to spend their leisure time together had not been difficult. Neuropressure therapy had been an inspired suggestion and highly effective, from a matchmaking perspective as well as a medical one. And he had found if he was particularly chatty with Command Tucker during movie nights, T'pol took advantage to insert herself into the conversation, always under the guise of insisting the doctor silence himself of course.

"Assuming we mean the same rumors, yes Captain." He smiled.

"I've already spoken to the both of them. They'll be more discreet in the future but from what I can tell, the rumors are unfounded. T'pol gives him neuropressure therapy and that's all."

"And that, i believe, is part of the problem." Phlox asserted, expression serious once more.

"Excuse me?"

"Tell me Captain, when you are experiencing.... romantic frustrations, are you at your best? Do you find your focus improves? Or your health?"

The questions were rhetorical. Phlox knew better. With multiple partners, he may very well know better than Archer ever could. But then, humanity had been the species to invent the expression "lovesick"...

Jon crossed his arms and regarded his ship's doctor evenly, assessing. The alien man could be incorrigible. He rather gleefully meddled into many affairs outside his medical purview. Including, apparently, romantic affairs.

"Am I to understand that you brought this up to me because you are concerned that Trip and T'pol are romantically frustrated?"

The question was pointed, but didn't seem to embarrass the Denobulan the way it would a human.

"It seems obvious, Captain," Phlox stated, matter-of-fact. It was to his species. You don't sustain multiple successful marriages without learning to read these sorts of things. "Their fondness for each other is self-evident. But the amount of opposition they face from their opposing cultures and regulations would be enough to dissuade even the most ardent lovers."

Archer's ears pinked and he shifted his stance uncomfortably at the phrase. Ardent lovers. There shouldn't be lovers of any sort aboard a Starfleet vessel.

_And why not?_ a part of his whispered.

This wasn't a military operation. They were explorers, not soldiers. In theory anyway. Living in space for years... did he really expect anyone to leave their heart, and their libido, back on their home planet? Was the occasional night passed with an attractive alien on a planet they might never revisit really enough to keep the passionate and romantic human species satisfied?

"So what do you expect me to do?" Archer asked. "Order them to go on a date?"

"Of course not." The doctor managed to combine a scoff with his usual smile. "They are both extremely stubborn individuals. Any overt encouragement would cause one to push the other away."

They both knew it would be T'pol doing the pushing, given her nature. Trip, who wore his heart on his sleeve, would suffer if that happened. Any withdrawal of personal esteem, from anyone, would hurt his feelings. Preoccupied as he may have been lately, Archer wasn't blind to the effects his own withdrawal had on his best friend. It was just another thing for Jon's guilt to chew on when the pressures of the mission weighed too heavily on his mind.

"I have to say, doctor, I'm not really sure what you want from me here."

"First I'd like your assurance that they wont be court-martialed when they they finally give in to the inevitable. It would be a shame if they were to come together only to be torn apart by Starfleet and the Vulcan High Council."

That wasn't something Archer could promise. This situation was unprecedented and he didn't know how his superiors would react to the first Vulcan-Human... liaison Archer had ever heard of. But he could at the least promise Phlox that their captain wouldn't be the one to tell on them, nor would he oppose any union they chose to form. Regulations didn't cover this kind of situation so it wasn't against the rules, _per se_ , but it was definitely going to be frowned upon at the very minimum. He said as much but the Denobulan had little concern for the opinions of Starfleet and Vulcan command.

Phlox started talking and Archer realized with amusement how long the doctor had been manipulating the two officers in question.

For their own well-being, of course.

In early days Phlox had somehow managed to schedule the two to overlap for regular health checks and routine procedures. Not only did it force small interactions when their paths crossed, but seeing the Vulcan in Sickbay subconsciously reminded Trip that she was not some automaton, no matter how much he private cussed about infuriating robot women. Phlox had rather expected that the human's exaggerated Southern courtesy would respond to the unspoken reminders that T'pol was a mortal being who fell ill and felt pain just like he did. It helped Trip view her as a crew-mate instead of an antagonist.

Group decons were normal, limited to how many the room could comfortably hold, and rotated as necessary. But the doctor was very clever about prioritizing examinations order for returning away team members. And now Archer realized how often it was Trip and T'pol were the last two to be cleared when Decon 1 was already at capacity, leaving them alone together in Decon 2. Phlox had classified their interactions in the decon chamber as "highly interesting". Jonathan didn't ask him to elaborate, he just hoped the Denobulan hadn't been spying on everyone every time.

As captain he should be more disturbed by the doctor's machinations. And indeed later he was going to take a very close look at past interactions with the Denobulan to check for puppet strings of his own. But at some point Jon had stopped arguing with results. His two most valued officers worked seamlessly together. The ship functioned better than ever before, in terms of both machinery and personnel. He didn't miss the days of the two taking spiteful, racist jabs at each other.

Having already set aside his own juvenile disappointment and jealousy, Jon found it hard to suppress a grin. Remembering more than one embarrassing evening in which Trip did a purposefully terrible job at being Jon's wingman simply to prank Archer, Jon felt that a little payback was only fair. It wasn't very captain-ly. But it might be kinda fun to watch Trip lose his cool over a woman.

Phlox smiled, knowing he had just won himself a fellow conspirator. Really, why was it that humans insisted such issues be kept private? Hiding their desire for one another, refusing to admit their feelings. As if it wasn't obvious to everyone with eyes in most cases. Body language, pheromones. Humans couldn't help but broadcast their attraction to each other, yet they treated gossip like it was a bad thing.

True, false rumors could lead to problems, but the truth could set one free. He had no doubt that when the rumors made it back to the commanders, it would spur their interactions further. On his home planet it was entirely normal for friends to gently guide each other's love lives. He himself had introduced his second wife to her third husband, knowing she would enjoy having a spouse who preferred to remain planet-bound for a change. Jaxom was quite adept at managing the family estates while Phlox, and several other family members, wandered the stars.

On Denobula trying to guide together two souls who one truly cared about was not considered an interfering act, but one of friendship and affection. He already had his next plan in mind for bringing the two into each other's space.

When Archer finally escaped Sickbay with Porthos at his heels, he realized he had plans of his own half-forming in the back of his mind and shook his head ruefully.

Phlox was a terrible influence.


	5. Chapter 5

They entered the Orellian system mid-morning ship time and Archer called Trip up from Engineering so Tucker could take command during the away mission. 

"What can you tell me about this planet, T'pol?" Archer asked, turning from the communications console as they approached the second largest orbiting body. 

"Very little, Captain. a Vulcan ship made first contact with the Orellians 176 years ago. The planet is Minshara class and according to records, rather beautiful. The Vulcan ship could detect no resources or technology deemed advantageous. After the initial contact, it appears the Expanse extended to envelop this system, therefore my people have not returned. There is no further information on record."

"Nothing made them curious enough to go back?"

T'pol raised an eyebrow, an unspoke reminder that Vulcans do not admit to idle curiosity, and continued,

"Much of the surface geology is composed of octahedral phyllosilicates, natural weathering and tectonic processes have eroded them into small particles that permeate the atmosphere. The effect is said to be aesthetically pleasing. It is known locally as 'the jewel of the galaxy'."

The planet that slowly spun beneath them shone faintly pearlescent, that was true, but hardly anything to write home about. Maybe "the jewel of the galaxy" was meant metaphorically? Or perhaps the planet was more impressive from the surface.

"Standard orbit, Travis," he ordered.

He turned from the view-screen, knowing his bridge crew was already running scans. Malcolm assessing the threat potential of the locals, T'pol analyzing the physical parameters of the planet, Hoshi scanning local comm traffic. Archer knew he didn't have to ask for it; he'd hear the information as soon as it came in. Before any of them could gather an initial report, Commander Tucker strode out of the turbolift.

"Reporting as ordered, Cap- ah! Jeez!" Trip exclaimed, throwing an arm up to shield his face as a sudden intense light filled the bridge. "Maybe warn a guy to bring his sunglasses!"

Turning back to the view-screen, Archer had to raise a hand to shade his own eyes. As the Enterprise slipped around from the dark side of the planet, the system's sun glinted off the surface of the day side and reflected back. By a magnitude of a thousand. Every officer on the bridge squinted as the powerful light dazzled their eyes. Hoshi hastily keyed down the view-screen, dimming the shine to a tolerable level, and they all blinked away the spots floating in their vision.

"Guess we know why its called the 'jewel of the galaxy'," Ensign Mayweather murmured. He had certainly assumed it was just colorful phrase meant to lure in tourists.

"The highly reflective nature of the sediments of the schist-like rock is the cause of the luminosity," T'pol reported from her science station.

"Oh my god, the entire planet is made of glitter," Hoshi whispered.

An inaccurate summation by the Vulcan's reasoning. The planet was merely covered in, not composed of, the reflective particles. But given the ensign's quiet tone, the linguist had clearly not intended her comment to be audible to others and thus it did not require a response. T'pol also knew the extent of Sato's science qualifications, knew the human woman had access to the same sensor readings through her console. Ensign Sato did not truly believe the planet to be made of 'glitter'. The outburst had been an illogical and inaccurate response but did not need to be corrected. T'pol was far past the point of being surprised by the emotional, illogical responses humans had to sights that could be considered beautiful.

And the planet _was_ beautiful. As the Enterprise continued to fly above it, the particles swirled with the wind patterns in the atmosphere. Continually shifting and tumbling, the sparkling effect was nonstop, dazzling even through the dimness of the reduced screen illumination. The entire bridge crew stood in silence for long moments as if mesmerized by the shifting light patterns. With an assessing glance around, T'pol reassured herself that it was simple appreciation of a spectacular sight and not a sign of hypnosis, or alien interference.

A smile was pulling at Commander Tucker's lips. One that was mirrored on the Captain's face. When they managed to pull their eyes away from the stunning sight, their glances met and their smiles widened to full blown grins.

This was that they had come out here for. Exploration. Strange new worlds with new wonders to behold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short chapter as a kick in the pants to get me writing this again instead of getting diverted by 4 different new ships.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i kinda messed up my order here (we weren't supposed to get to the planet for a few more days!) but i think I can fix it. apologies if it makes the next few chapters a little awkward.

Trip wasn't entirely happy to be left out of the landing party but as things stood, they didn't need an engineer. And Jon wasn't above a bit of petty punishment for a recalcitrant officer who couldn't follow orders from their doctor. Besides, with him, T'pol, and Malcolm heading to the surface, Enterprise couldn't spare any more of the senior staff.

Trip was relieved when Jon called a senior staff meeting immediately on their return, instead of waiting for morning. Archer himself sat back and let Lt Reed brief the rest of the bridge crew after the two men and T'pol had returned from their initial visit to the surface.

"Your average Orellian stands approximately two-to-two-and-a-half meters tall. Both torso and pelvis are elongated to fit their extra appendages. Mostly I observed them walking upright like a humanoid but when at rest, standing around talking or waiting, they seem to revert to using their four lower appendages, a bit like a centaur with an extra set of arms. But I did witness 2 moving with all limbs, scuttling along almost like an insect. They were smaller, though still nearly as tall as myself, so i suspect they may have been juveniles. Human babies crawl well into their toddler years."

A toddler the size of their armory officer was unique to their experience.

"Technologically they are pretty comparable. Warp capable, but not much advanced manufacturing. The tourism industry is big, lots of resorts for off-worlders to sit around and admire the scenery. Most of the planet's economy relies on its novelty. The... sparkle makes any Orellian export a high demand luxury item, even something as basic as water, or a stone.

Hoshi picked up a small rock sitting on the conference table. A souvenir Archer had been allowed to bring back for no price, as a small welcome gift to Earth's first visitors to the shimmering planet. About half the size of her palm, it looked like a lumpy ball of iridescent glitter. She expected the touch to grate like sandpaper but it was polished smooth. Tilted this way and that, the sparkling colors strobed in a way that was so mesmerizing that Hoshi set it back down only with reluctance.

"I can see why. It is really pretty," she said.

The whole planet was. She'd only seen if from orbit so far, and the few digital images Archer had taken on the surface, but that was enough to tell it was probably the most gorgeous planet she had ever visited. Or might ever visit. Out of sight in her lap, she crossed her fingers that she would get to see it in person.

After Reed finished, Archer turned to his first officer to share her report.

"T'Pol?"

"The Orellians are accustomed to alien visitors but because we are strangers in this sector of space, the top planetary officials want to meet the captain and learn more about the ship to establish trust. We will also need to determine what we have that can be exchanged for local currency before we are able to purchase anything. Once these are completed, the Orellians have no objections to the crew taking leave on the surface."

Hoshi forced herself not to wriggle with excitement in her seat. Instead she shot a small smile towards Travis, who openly beamed his enthusiasm back at her.

"Orellian physiology is adapted to the particulates in their atmosphere but Doctor Phlox is unsure what prolonged exposure will do to human lungs. He is currently testing the efficiency of the dust masks in ship's stores and all crew members will be required to wear them while on the planet. Eye coverings will also be required, however the Orellians have developed several advanced styles for off-world visitors and will provide us with as many as required."

"They're much more comfortable than a bulky set of goggles," Reed volunteered, having worn a set on the surface for several hours. Nearly forgetting to remove them once he had returned to the shuttle.

"So, that's the situation," Archer stood to wrap up the briefing, "Malcolm and I will go back down tomorrow to start meeting the heads of state and getting any paperwork filled out. Shouldn't take more than a few days to get through the official stuff, so have your departments plan shift rotations with planetary leave in mind. I want everyone to have at least two solid days on the surface, three if we can manage it."

Nods of ascent all around and he smiled at his crew, feeling just a bit like a fond father.

"Dismissed," he said and sent them to their duties.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day! dont miss the one before this.

T'pol joined the captain in his mess for breakfast the next morning. They spent a few moments making morning small talk, discussing their schedules for the day. It was soon clear it was just the two of them today; if Trip wasn't on time for the most important meal of the day it meant he wasn't coming at all, so Archer inquired after their usual dining companion.

"Don't tell me Trip's actually sleeping in for once?"

T'pol raised that eyebrow of hers and glanced around the small private dining room as if she hadn't noticed the engineer's absence yet. It was such a _human_ bit of pointed play-acting, no logic to it at all. Archer kept his peace though and took a sip of coffee to hide his smile.

"I would have no way of knowing, Captain. Mister Tucker left my quarters promptly after his neurotherapy session early last evening and I have not spoken him since. But given his tendency to overwork himself, I am inclined to doubt it." She sipped her tea.

Archer had to agree there. It was far more likely that Trip got an early start rather than a late one. If he was up before the mess hall opened for breakfast, he probably hadn't had anything to eat either, running on coffee alone. Archer pushed his chair back enough to reach the comm panel on the wall.

"Chief Engineer, report to the Captain."

* * *

Trip was reviewing two PADDs at once when he finally found Jon still at the breakfast table. He gave T'Pol a polite nod acknowledging her presence. Neither captain nor first officer failed to notice the lack of social niceties from their usually gregarious chief engineer. Not even an easy " 'morning, Cap'n" for his oldest friend.

"Commander." Archer acknowledged him. "Join us, wont you?"

The use of his rank caught a bit of Trip's attention and he lowered his PADDs.

In that tone it was clear that Jon wasn't asking. Trip took a seat and started to wonder what kinda trouble he had gotten himself into this time. All he could think of was the recent fraternization rumors flying around but Jon couldn't believe those, could he? Trip definitely hadn't done anything wrong; he hadn't done anything at all! So why did he suddenly feel like a kid who got called to the principal's office?

He shot a look at T'Pol but as expected, her lack of expression didn't do much to clarify the situation.

Archer hadn't planned to ambush his friend like this.

If Trip had entered with his usual smile, asking if the chef made any bacon today, Jon would have been content to make Trip take a meal sitting down. But the engineer was always knee deep in data PADDs these days, making notes every time he thought of something he couldn't devote brainpower to in that moment. He was _always working_. He knew Trip already had Phlox and T'Pol on his case but as his friend and his captain, Jon knew it was his responsibility to help too.

"I'm rearranging the teams and taking you off Engineering duty for a while," he said bluntly.

Naked emotion flashed across Trip's face: total shock, utter disbelief, anger that anyone would keep him from the job he loved, hurt at the thought that Jon didn't have faith in him anymore, embarrassment at the thought he was being demoted and in front of T'Pol no less. Jon could easily read them all; Trip had always worn his heart on his sleeve.

The fact that Tucker didn't immediately explode out of his chair, fierce and yelling at whoever was trying to separate him from his engine for no good reason... that was new. And unexpected. T'pol's Vulcan ways rubbing off on him.

"Captain-" Trip started to object, but rather calmly for a man who lived and breathed his work.

Archer cut him off before he could say more.

"Engineering crews need to be pulling their weight. I need to be absolutely sure I can rely on every officer under my command and I can't do that when you are doing their work for them. No one doubts that you have the best touch with that engine, Trip. But you can't do everything yourself. "

Trip blew out a breath, definitely a little annoyed but actually accepting, much to his suprise. Sometimes he _did_ feel like he had to do everything. He trusted the people he had trained... in theory. In practice, he knew he could do the work safer and better and faster. Sometimes the safety of the entire ship and crew relied on that. So he just did it. _All_ of it. But doing everything was taking everything out of him.

"Aye, captain," was all he said.

Jon and T'Pol traded a look of mild shock that he had acquiesced so easily. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Archer continued.

"This will give you some downtime to work on that new design of yours," he pointed out.

Trip's eyes lit up for a moment but then faded back to weariness.

"Sounds fun Cap'n, but that's no small amount of work either. Its gonna take buildin' a new system from scratch. I'd need a whole separate team running calculations for me, another on fabrication, and they can't be spared if I'm not in Engineering."

Jon nodded, pretending to consider his concerns. He'd already worked out the logistics of this shift of duties with everyone else involved but Trip would be more cooperative if he thought he got his fair share of say in it.

"You'll have to do most of the build work yourself, but since there's no rush you can take your time over it. I've got the science teams working with Reed on upgrading the weapons systems right now but I can assign an officer who is well-versed in warp theory to assist you. They'll have their own duties though so your work time is going to be limited." Jon shot a pointed but gentle look at his tired friend. "Which is frankly the whole point of this arrangement, Trip. You aren't under a deadline to finish the prototype, this is more of a hobby project, so I expect you to restrain your enthusiasm a little. I don't want any more visits from Phlox about you being overworked or sleep-deprived. Are we clear?"

Before their conversation in Sickbay, the doctor had already twice shown up in Archer's ready room. The first time to make professional recommendations about the health of a valued and essential crew member. The second time to scold the captain for not being more considerate of the health of a man Jon claimed to call his best friend. Jon couldn't remember if any stern, wagging fingers had been pointed at him but the effect was the same either way.

"Aye, Captain," Trip said, nodding his agreement sheepishly.

Being taken off duty by the doctor was no little bit of embarrassing. At least he could save face with a project that promised to be a lot of fun.

The steward entered to set a plate in front of the younger man and Archer was relieved to see Trip click his data padds off, setting them aside and picking up his fork to give proper attention to his food. Across the table T'Pol tilted her head in a gesture of unspoken approval of the captain's plan.

He hoped she still approved when she learned she was the science officer he had in mind to occupy Trip's time. She had the qualifications, was firm enough to hold Trip to the limited schedule, she worked well with the commander. And the two would have another logical, professional reason to be seen in each other's company the next time a gossipy crewman spotted them together outside of their standard duty shifts.


End file.
